Seven Virtues
by somethingsdont
Summary: EC. After an untimely death, Eric and Calleigh's lives come colliding together.
1. Chapter 1: Charity

**Title**: Seven Virtues  
**Author**: Lucy (somethingsdont)  
**Pairing**: Eric/Calleigh  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Timeline**: Post 10-7  
**Summary**: After an untimely death, Eric and Calleigh's lives come colliding together.  
**Notes**: Because I don't start enough WIPs I can't finish. Actually, this is something I've wanted to get down for a little while, but I never had enough concrete ideas about where to take it. Now I do (or at least I think I do), so here goes nothing. Hope you guys enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: Charity**

As a general rule, Miami is unbearably hot in the summer. The scorching sun consistently beats down on the parched pavement, and the humidity creates a sticky sheen of perspiration that clings uncomfortably to clothes and skin. On the worst days, even breathing becomes difficult. Damp, heavy air that seems to weigh down the lungs leaves those unfortunate enough to breathe too much of it irritable and light-headed.

The crime lab is adequately air-conditioned, to be sure, making the temperature and humidity bearable, but sometimes, the suffocating feeling of soggy air originates from areas well outside of Mother Nature's control. This one, Eric Delko quickly realizes, has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with an incredibly selfish decision by a desperate man driven to his limits by the violence he's witnessed and the rejection he's endured.

Eric, however, bears no sympathies for one John Hagen.

His own grudge becomes irrelevant the moment he sees Calleigh near the entrance of the ballistics lab, struggling to maintain a fearless front. As much as she probably hates that he can, he sees right through her defenses and the walls she's erected in a spiraling tower around her.

But he knows that there aren't really words appropriate for such an occasion. He'd learned plenty about how to speak to witnesses of crimes far more horrific than what Hagen had done to himself, but they'd all seemed practiced and insincere in his head, would no doubt be worse should they be spoken.

So he settles for something generic and most probably useless in every sense, and as he'd expected, she brushes him off, mumbling a string of excuses. Open cases. Work. She's going to bury herself in an avalanche of bullets to stave off the sting of what she'd witnessed. He knows it's not going to work, but he also knows better than to try stopping her when she's in her current state of mind.

She disappears, and he's so backed up with his own cases that he doesn't see her for the rest of the day. He figures it's probably best that he doesn't get the chance to worry about her in her presence, because knowing her and knowing him, that would make it worse. He notices that she's only caustic toward him, and he doesn't know if he should cherish her hostility. If Horatio worries, he'd probably receive a polite thank you. Ryan might get the same, perhaps with a short eye-roll. But around Eric, she sharpens her words, pushes him away and dismisses his concerns.

And he always takes it.

Maybe it's because he knows that in a twisted way, the more she pushes, the mores she cares. If she doesn't feel like she needs to push someone away, they probably aren't close enough. She doesn't see them as a threat to her invulnerability. Maintaining the appropriate distance with her is a trying and often impossible task, but he makes an attempt, even when he knows that lines and boundaries constantly blur between them.

He puts up with it because he cares about her and her well-being, her happiness, and even though it hurts him more than he'd ever admit when she acts cold toward him, he takes every inch he can get.

She doesn't give them too often.

The Hagen thing, it stumps him. He doesn't know what to do, but at the same time, he does. She needs time and space to heal, but he worries. Their relationship had been on rocky ground since Speed's untimely death, and though she shows glimpses of her former self, she's tougher to reach, and he can't imagine that Hagen's suicide will aid matters.

He decides to let it go for a little while. He doesn't want to push her, and as long as she knows that she can turn to him, he'll leave her alone.

He changes his mind when he notices the active duty board, her name conspicuously missing from the list.

-/-/-

"You took yourself off active duty," he blurts out as soon as she answers her door. It's not the opening he'd hoped for, but it catches her off guard.

"Just ballistics," she replies, her tone betraying nothing.

"Forever?"

Her fingers ball into a tight fist. "For as long as I need." A short pause. "Why are you here?"

"I brought you some ice cream," he explains, holding up the small tub of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough that he'd picked up on his way over.

She eyes the container suspiciously. "Do you feel obligated to be here?"

He frowns. "No…"

"Then you should probably go home," she tells him, resignation lurking somewhere behind her detachment.

His frown deepens, a hint of confusion coloring his features. "Can I just come in?"

Her jaw clenches. "Eric, I don't know why you're here but—"

"I don't know, Calleigh," he interrupts in a hurry, frustration seeping through before he can stop himself. "Maybe because your ex-boyfriend offed himself in the middle of the ballistics lab using the gun he'd previously held to your head." He takes a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the floor in apology. He doesn't have to perceive the changes in her stance to recognize that he's making it worse.

"I think you should leave," she says quietly, clicking close the door before he has a chance to verbalize his regret.

He takes his ice cream home and tosses the melty container into his freezer. He watches the minutes tick by and wonders if it's already too late to repair the damage. He reaches for his phone and decides he has to try. He dials her number, not fully expecting her to answer, but she surprises him.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs when he hears her breathing on the other end.

"I know," she says in a whisper, her tiny voice nearly killing him. "I know."

He spends the next half-hour making small talk, conscientiously skirting around the Real Issue. She doesn't seem to mind, and he even manages to make her laugh a few times. A small victory, but one nonetheless, and he'll take whatever he can get, especially when he doesn't know where he stands with her anymore.

"I don't know if I can do this," she admits suddenly, a light quiver tingeing her accent. Even through the phone, he senses her despair, the fear at the pit of her stomach. "Don't say anything," she adds quickly, the plea nearly breaking his heart.

He complies. He listens to her breathing hard at the other end and waits for her to regain her footing.

"Horatio told me to take some time off," she reveals, voice still strained.

"You should do that," he urges gently, knowing that the last thing she needs is to be surrounded by Hagen's case and the ensuing investigation.

"No, I need to be working," she says resolutely, and he doesn't need to ask why. As much as she embraces being left alone to deal with her issues, he knows that demons love to prey on those in isolation. He has no doubt that she's experienced enough of that to realize the same conclusion.

"Spend tomorrow with me," he requests, knowing it's a long shot but hoping that her unwillingness to be alone trumps her pride.

She takes a moment to consider his proposal. "Okay," she finally relents with a deep breath. "But I don't really want to go anywhere…"

"That's okay," he assures her. "Why don't we just order a pizza and watch some TV?"

She hesitates. "Do you still have that ice cream?"

He chuckles. "Of course I'll bring your fix."

He imagines the faintest of smiles adorning her face.

-/-/-

As promised, the next day, he arrives at her door with the tub of ice cream. While she gets him a drink in the kitchen, he plants himself on her couch and begins looking through her Tivo, hoping to find a show without gun violence. She certainly doesn't need more of that.

"What are we watching?" Calleigh asks, settling down beside him. She hands him a beer and picks up the container of ice cream that he'd left on the coffee table.

He skims the list quickly, grateful when he locates a medical drama among the cop shows and documentaries. "House," he replies as he starts the episode.

She immediately embraces the concept of watching Hugh Laurie limp across the screen. If there's something dreamy about old, crippled doctors with a penchant for sarcasm and rudeness, Eric certainly cannot figure it out. But it keeps her in good spirits, so he doesn't complain.

She eats the ice cream directly out of the container, and though she hands him a spoon and motions for him to dig in, she's enjoying it so much that he doesn't want to take a single scoop away from her.

"The rest of his team is kind of useless," Calleigh announces, waving her spoon toward the television.

He doesn't reply, chooses to watch as her eyes followed the fictional characters on screen. He knows better than to assume that this is the end of it, of the agony and guilt she'll experience, but for the moment, he hangs on to her smile and stores it away as a future reminder of what he's fighting for.

The pair spends the entire day lounging around and watching House, eating pizza and dancing around the aftermath of Hagen's death. Before he knows it, she's yawning, and he knows it's time for him to leave.

At the door, he stops and pulls out a small pile of folded papers from the pocket of his shorts. He hands them to her, suddenly nervous.

"I, uh, I got you these airline tickets…"

She freezes in place, eyes boring holes through the sheets in her hands. "Why?" she manages to ask.

"I don't know." He scratches his head. "Look, just… take a short vacation, okay? Bring someone along and get away from it all for a week."

She frowns and tries to give the documents back. "Eric, I can take care of myself."

"Then go alone," he counters. "Come on, when's the last time you took a week off?"

She holds his gaze for a moment, and her curiosity gets the better of her as she takes a peek at the tickets. "Thunder Bay? That's where my brother Parker lives."

He nods. "I know."

Her eyes shoot up, surprise glazed across them. "How?"

"You told me once." He smiles and teasingly adds, "I couldn't remember if it was Tampa Bay or Thunder Bay…"

"That's over a thousand miles difference." She brushes a strand of hair away from her face. "It's not even the same country."

He shrugs. "I had a hunch."

"You went and spent one grand on a hunch?" she demands incredulously, eyes flickering back to the tickets.

He smiles and shakes his head. "No, Calleigh, I checked with your dad first," he explains. "Don't think about this," he urges quietly. "Just go spend some time with Parker and his family."

Without giving her a chance to retaliate, he ghosts a kiss across her forehead and leaves.

He's already in his car when she catches up to him, but he notices her and climbs back out. She stops dead in her tracks, and with three quiet words, she turns his world around.

"Come with me."


	2. Chapter 2: Diligence

**Chapter 2: Diligence**

Horatio Caine is understandably none too pleased with two of his best CSIs abandoning ship during the investigation of a police officer's death, especially given that one of them is their only witness. But it doesn't take great minds to conclude that there had been no foul play in Hagen's death, and Horatio seems to understand Calleigh's plight. Since he's the one who had suggested some time off, he lets them go and wishes them a safe trip.

The rest of the team wishes them much of the same. If they're gossiping, neither of them hears a word about it. Only Ryan is idiot enough to mention how 'lucky' they are for getting the time off, and even then, he realizes his gaffe quickly and apologizes before any damage is done.

Valera, however, is an entirely different story. Calleigh finds her alone in the DNA lab, running samples and looking atrociously bored. The tech appears genuinely relieved that she has an excuse to step away from her centrifuge for a few minutes while Calleigh outlines the details of her and Eric's trip.

"Barring the fact that you're going away to deal with some really serious stuff," Valera notes, "this is actually kind of romantic."

"Valera," Calleigh warns.

"I'm just saying!" Valera cries, tossing her arms into the air. She smiles. "You guys would make a really great movie."

"A horror movie, maybe," Calleigh jokes, attempting to brush Valera's comments aside.

Valera, however, is not so easily deterred. "Calleigh, you know how you tell me that you miss him?"

Much to Calleigh's surprise, her heart catches for a moment. "I don't miss him," she replies, sounding a lot more defensive than she had intended. "I just miss the way we were."

Valera rolls her eyes. "When I grow a beard and start reciting Hamlet, you can play the semantics game with me. Until then—"

"Valera, stop," Calleigh interrupts. "I'm going up to spend a few days with my brother and his family and I thought it would be nice if Eric got to meet them."

"Right."

"Since he bought the tickets and everything," Calleigh quickly adds, a fairly poor excuse but the best she has to offer. "Though I'm planning on paying him back for m—"

"Just tell him," Valera urges, uncharacteristically serious. "I know you have a ton on your mind, but it'll be easier if you let him help you."

Calleigh bites her lip, a hint of doubt crawling into the deepest crevices of her mind, but it's there. She smiles faintly at the lab tech and pulls her into a warm embrace, sensing, perhaps, that beyond the insanity, the younger woman knows more than she lets on. "I'll see you in a week, Valera."

-/-/-

Calleigh calls her brother the next day to inform him of her approaching arrival, and though the past few days have been comparable to walking through water, Parker's voice immediately puts Calleigh in a better mood.

"Calleigh! I was just thinking about you."

Calleigh smiles as she settles into her couch. "Aren't you the little charmer?" she teases. "So how's it going? Too busy to call your big sis?"

Parker chuckles. "You trying to guilt me, Cal?"

"Still works, doesn't it?" she asks playfully. "How're the kids?"

"Twins are total tyrants," he replies, brimming with pride. "They give Ella a real rough time sometimes."

"But Ella loves her baby brothers," Calleigh says affectionately, an odd rush of loneliness and nostalgia suddenly rearing its way through. She quickly shakes it away.

"'Bout as much as you loved us growing up, I reckon," Parker replies.

Calleigh smiles. "Well, Dawson and Terence were okay," she quips.

Parker laughs. "I'd be hurt," he shoots back, "if I didn't know I was always your favorite."

"You keep telling yourself that, Park," she chuckles. "How's Olly?"

"She's great. Has the patience of the Christ when it comes to the kids, I swear it." Parker pauses briefly. "She misses you terribly. All of us do. You should come up and see us sometime, when you aren't bogged down by that job of yours."

"That's actually why I'm calling," she reveals, stretching herself out across her couch. "This is sort of short notice, but I arrive in Thunder Bay on Friday night."

"Really?" Parker asks, surprise evident, and there's a familial welcome there that she hadn't felt in ages. "Not pulling my leg, are you?"

Though he can't see her, she shakes her head. "I've got the tickets and everything."

"Well, hey, that's great news!" he exclaims, sounding genuinely pleased. "How long are you staying?"

"Four days, five nights," she replies, recalling her flight information. "I'm scheduled to return to Miami Wednesday morning, bright and early."

"Guest bedroom's all yours, Cal," Parker offers.

"Actually," she begins hesitantly. "Actually, Parker, my friend's coming with me and it's probably easier and less of a burden on you guys if we just stay at a hotel."

Over the phone, her brother doesn't seem to catch the change in her tone. "The bed's more than enough for two, and you know that the price of hotel rooms skyrocket, even in a little place like—"

"Parker." She bites the inside of her cheek and readjusts herself on the couch. "My friend and I will be getting separate hotel rooms."

Parker catches on immediately, and after a few failed attempts at gathering more information on this male friend, talk falls to discussing the finer details of her arrival. Though Calleigh tries valiantly to convince Parker that a taxi will be a suitable escort to the hotel, he is adamant on picking them up at the airport and driving them there himself, and she finally caves.

She's not sure whether or not she should be surprised that she finds herself looking forward to the change of scenery. In any case, she surely can use the break away from the endless heaps of unanswerable questions that surround her very existence. She needs the time to sort that out, and busy Miami isn't the place for that.

-/-/-

Their flight leaves Friday morning and it's already Thursday. She's packed; he's not, so he invites her over to help him and they both know that the visit has nothing to do with his lack of organization skills. He's been trying to keep her occupied, and that means a multitude of creative excuses to spend time together. She takes every one, no matter how ridiculous it is, and that offers him hope that maybe she's a little more willing to accept his help than he'd originally imagined. It's her way of reaching out, or at least acknowledging the careful gestures he takes.

"It can get chilly in Thunder Bay," she tells him, head poking into his closet but finding nothing remotely warm.

He pulls open his suitcase and joins her next to the closet. "Well, Miami rarely dips under sixty," he shrugs, reaching in and pulling out a shirt. "And that's in January."

"If you catch a cold because you were born and raised in the sunshine state," she teases, "I won't be held responsible." She watches him rummage around in his closet for a few more minutes. "Hey," she says softly, "you're not paying for my ticket."

"I already did," he dismisses.

She holds out a check for the exact dollar amount her roundtrip ticket had cost him. "Well, I'm paying you back."

"Calleigh—"

"Eric, I'm on a county paycheck, too." She folds the check in two and pushes the corner into his pocket, not really trusting herself to do much more than that. "Take it. Please, it'll make me feel better about dragging you out of the country."

His demeanor softens. "You're not dragging me anywhere, okay?"

She stiffens. "Let's finish packing," she says, avoidance in the works, and he knows better than to push her.

Four hours later, she's in a much better mood. He zips up his suitcase and lets out a sigh of satisfaction. "Finally done."

She's lying on his bed on her side, head propped up against her arm. "Took you long enough to decide if you wanted the black shirt or the blue one," she teases.

Without giving it any thought, he hops onto the other side of the bed and lies down on his back. He stares up at the ceiling for a moment before something strikes him.

"Why did you ask me to come with you?" he asks, only realizing how much not knowing had been bothering him when he hears his own voice ringing in the air.

She shifts on the bed to look at him, but she doesn't say anything, and when she finally does speak, it has nothing to do with his question. "This thing with John," she says quietly. "You're going to make me talk about it, aren't you?"

He tilts his head in a slight nod. "When you're ready."

She leans back against a pillow and expels a deep breath. "I don't know if I'll ever be." She takes a moment to recollect her thoughts. "I asked you to come with me because I trust you with this," she says, finally answering his earlier question. "Why did you agree to come?"

He shrugs. "Because you asked."

"You shouldn't have agreed." She forces out a humorless chuckle. "I shouldn't have asked."

He frowns. "Why?"

"Because." She uses her elbows to push herself up to a sitting position and quickly combs her fingers through her hair. "Because you shouldn't have to deal with this," she explains, her back turned to him.

"You shouldn't have to deal with it alone," he counters without missing a single beat.

She turns her head to look at him and something electric radiates between them. She takes a deep breath and tears her eyes away. His name leaves her lips in a mumble, but she doesn't have anything to add to that and the moment passes.

He pulls his wrist up to his face to check the time. "Oh, wow," he says to nobody in particular, "it's already eleven."

She picks at a piece of lint on his comforter, suddenly nervous about the upcoming trip. "I'd better head home."

She stands; he does the same and follows her to his door.

"Flight's at eight," she reminds him, "so we should be there by seven."

He nods. "I'll call a cab and pick you up at about six-thirty." He tries an encouraging smile. "Get some rest," he adds, even though he has a feeling neither will be getting any of that. "And thanks." When she shoots him a confused look, he playfully explains, "For helping me pick between the two shirts. I don't know what I would've done if I'd wandered into public with the blue one."

She smiles and steps out through his doorway. "Good night, Eric."

He mirrors her smile. "Night, Cal."

-/-/-

Ten minutes after the Miami-Toronto flight lifts off, right at the end of the safety demonstrations, Calleigh releases a string of yawns, much to Eric's amusement.

"Didn't sleep well?" he asks playfully.

Her lips curl into a demure smile. "So-so."

"Yeah," he nods, "same here. Nervous?"

"A little," she admits. "Mostly about the flight. I'm kind of excited to see Parker and his family."

He smiles. "Tell me about him."

"Parker?" She pauses thoughtfully. "He's two years younger than me, left Darnell to pursue a career in advertising and somehow found himself up north. Surprised everyone when he sent out wedding invitations a few years back." She smiles nostalgically. "He was a bit of a skirt-chaser when he was younger, but he's settled down really well. My dad regrets that they don't live closer, because Parker's children are his only grandkids, and he loves to spoil them every opportunity he gets." She tilts her head to look at Eric. "Which reminds me, did you really ask my dad about where Parker lived?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, I actually did remember Thunder Bay, but just to make sure they hadn't moved, you know?"

She exhales in disbelief. "I can't believe you did all this," she whispers. There's awe and gratitude and something indistinguishable that lingers.

"Hey," he reminds her playfully, "I'm getting a vacation, too, remember?"

She smiles. "Ah," she says knowingly, "the ulterior motive appears."

He nods. "Never been to Canada."

"Me neither, actually," she reveals, holding back another yawn. "Parker and company usually come down on holidays. He's helped to cement the family; it's difficult not to adore his kids." She suddenly looks down at her lap. "Helps everybody forget the past, I guess."

Another yawn, one she can't hold back, and she offers a small, apologetic smile.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" he suggests, sensing her exhaustion. "I'll wake you up when we land in Toronto for the transfer."

She's ready to protest, because sleeping in public is one of those things she'd never felt comfortable doing, but she finally decides against it. She'd spent the night tossing and turning, worrying about what lies ahead, and she desperately needs the rest. She angles the back of her seat carefully so as not to disturb the passenger behind her, and she flicks down the footrest, then lies back against her seat and closes her eyes.

"Don't forget," she murmurs rather incoherently, and though economy seats are anything but comfortable, sleep comes quickly.

Neither recognizes the significance of his presence as the factor that allows her to drift off so easily, though somewhere before she succumbs to slumber, she notices, for the moment at least, how safe she feels.


	3. Chapter 3: Kindness

A/N: This story was not supposed to take forever and a day to update, but unfortunately it's turning out that way. I'm trying my best! ;)

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**Chapter 3: Kindness**

Minus the six hours Eric and Calleigh have to wait at Toronto's Pearson International for their flight to Thunder Bay, everything goes smoothly the rest of the way. Though the whole reason they're there in the first place isn't far from either of their minds, it manages to stay out of their conversations; however, neither can ignore that it's there, hovering, just waiting to strike.

At baggage claim, while waiting for their respective suitcases to roll down the conveyor belt, Calleigh suddenly tenses and becomes slightly restless. It's barely noticeable, but he picks up on it and shoots her a questioning look.

"I don't know if I should tell them about John," she explains, and he almost doesn't catch the significance of what she's spoken because she delivers the words so calmly. "I don't want to talk about it," she adds preemptively, eyes trained on the conveyor belt in front of her.

He reaches out and gives her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I just want you to be around people you feel comfortable with," he says quietly. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here; if you just want to forget about it and spend some time with family, I'll leave you alone."

"No," she replies immediately, "I wouldn't have asked you to come if I didn't want you around." She releases a resigned sigh. "I don't want them to worry." She looks up at him. "I don't want _you_ to worry."

Before he has a chance to reassure her that it's not something she herself needs to worry about, she spots his suitcase rolling down the conveyor belt and points it out to him. He heaves it to the ground. Hers follows closely behind, and she drags it off the belt effortlessly.

Suitcases in tow, the pair makes for the exit. After having navigated the ridiculously busy airports in Miami and Toronto, the modest Thunder Bay International is a nice change of pace, and it doesn't take them long to make their way out of the final security gate.

Calleigh spots Parker near one of the automated glass sliding doors with his daughter, Ella, sitting atop his shoulders. Calleigh nudges Eric to catch his attention, and the two begin to make their way over. The little girl is chatting animatedly with her father, but she's attentive of her surroundings and her vantage point provides her with the sufficient view to notice Calleigh approaching well before Parker does.

"Calleigh!" she squeals, kicking her feet against her father's chest in excitement. Parker swings Ella off his shoulders and plops her down on the ground, and she makes a beeline for her aunt.

Calleigh crouches down as the five-year-old races into her arms. "What are you doing here so late, sweetie?"

"Daddy said I could come," Ella replies. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a bright red lollipop. "This is for you."

Calleigh takes it from her and smiles. "Well, aren't you a thoughtful girl."

"Daddy said your friend was coming," Ella continues in a low voice as she takes short glimpses at Eric. She leans in to Calleigh's ear and whispers, "Does he like lollipops?"

Calleigh laughs. "He loves lollipops."

Ella reaches into her pocket again and extracts a second lollipop, identical to the first. "Can you give it to him?" she asks with a hint of timidity.

"I'll do that, Ella," Calleigh promises, tucking both lollipops into her purse. She brushes aside Ella's blond bangs and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. "Thank you."

By the time Calleigh stands back up, Parker has joined them.

"Parker, this is my friend Eric," she introduces, pointing her thumb toward the Cuban. "Eric, my brother Parker."

Eric takes a step forward and extends his hand. "Nice to meet you, Parker."

"Pleasure's all mine," Parker replies amiably, and the two men shake hands.

Introductions, Calleigh thinks to herself, seem to have gone well, though never once had she doubted that they wouldn't. She grips Ella's tiny hand and smiles down at the little girl, who grins back sweetly. She imagines that maybe things are beginning to look up.

It's pouring outside, but the rain does nothing to dampen Calleigh's sudden good mood. The roof extension protects them from getting drenched, but the wind whips at Calleigh's hair. This seems to amuse Ella, whose own blond locks are splayed wildly across her face.

The ride is rather short, though it lends itself nicely to a bit of familiarization between the two men. Calleigh catches small segments of conversation, but for the most part, she listens to Ella tell stories until the little girl's excitement wanes and she succumbs to her exhaustion mere minutes away from their destination.

Parker drops them off at a nearby hotel, and Ella wakes long enough to make Calleigh promise to visit the next day. She leaves her niece with a light goodnight kiss and slips out the car, where she finds Parker and Eric unloading the luggage, chatting animatedly about something.

"I'm telling you," she hears Eric say. "The Marlins are going all the way."

Parker chuckles. "And I suppose you expect the Braves are gonna keel over and let 'em?"

Calleigh smiles as she approaches the two men. "Oh, please don't get Parker started on baseball," she teases, tossing a look Eric's way.

Everyone shares a laugh, and Parker takes a quick peek inside the car to check on Ella, a paternal instinct that Calleigh had always found endearing. At the back of her mind, she envies it, because she's never had an instinct for those types of things.

"You guys have plans for tomorrow?" Parker asks, pulling down on his trunk door to close it.

"Actually, I just promised Ella I was going to see her tomorrow," she replies, stealing a quick glance at Eric. "I wasn't sure if that would interfere with anything, but Ella wouldn't let me go until I promised."

"No, no, that's my girl," Parker says with a chuckle. "Why don't you two join us for dinner tomorrow?"

She shoots Eric another glance, and he doesn't seem to be against the idea, so she nods and gratefully accepts her brother's offer. "That would be great."

"I'll give you a call," Parker promises. "I booked you guys a suite upstairs," he adds, pointing up at the hotel building.

"A suite?" Calleigh echoes, biting her lip and trying desperately not to look at Eric again.

Parker misinterprets his sister's hesitation. "Yeah, I called in a favor," he explains. "It's completely paid for."

She succumbs to the temptation and peers over at Eric, but she can't read his expression. The price is the furthest thing from her mind. "That's not, uh—"

Parker nods knowingly. "I remember what you said over the phone," he reassures, "which is why I made sure to mention that if you guys request a pair of regular rooms at the front desk, they make sure to accommodate you. But you know, I've seen the suite. It's a thing of beauty."

Calleigh smiles tightly. "Thanks, Parker."

Parker pulls Calleigh into a quick hug and motions toward his car. "I'd better get Ella home to bed." He looks toward Eric, then back at Calleigh. "I'll see you two tomorrow?"

"We'll be waiting for your call," Calleigh replies, easing up slightly. "Good night."

"Thanks again," Eric pipes in.

Parker makes a final check-up on Ella, still asleep in the backseat, before buckling up and pulling away into the rain, leaving Calleigh, Eric and their suitcases just outside the hotel. A sudden uncertainty hangs in the air; it's uncomfortable.

"Parker didn't tell me about the suite," she articulates.

"I know," he chuckles, sensing her heavy discomfort. He reaches for the handle of his suitcase. "We'll just ask for separate rooms," he reassures her.

"Is that what you want?" she asks, eyes flitting to his.

He does a double take. "Is that what _you_ want?"

She smiles softly, only a shadow of doubt still lurking behind her eyes. "I asked first," she teases, leaning down to get a handle on her suitcase. She picks it up with ease and heads toward the front door, which the doorman opens for her.

His own suitcase in hand, Eric follows through the door closely behind, unsure what to make of this new development. He had known the moment she'd asked him to join her that he would have to take it day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, but he'd set his mind on not being pushy and… had she just displayed assertiveness in asking? Had it been an invitation? He finds he can't quite figure it out, but this door is ajar, and all he has to do is push it a foot wider and step through.

She stops a few steps away from the front desk and looks at him for something resembling confirmation.

He chuckles. "If the suite is as great as your brother says," he suggests, a sheepish grin upon his lips, "it could be worth checking out."

She doesn't say another word to him, but the understanding passes, and she steps up to the counter to check in. The entire process takes mere minutes; an elevator ride and a tipped bellhop later, the two find themselves standing alone in the entryway of the suite. The light hanging above them casts a rather weak spray of light into the rest of the suite, but there's plenty to be seen.

Leaving her luggage at the door, Calleigh flicks on another light and steps further into the suite, and immediately, a gentle floral aroma fills her nostrils, calming her nerves. Parker had been right; the suite, or at least what she can see of it, is beautiful. The décor is inviting, and the living area is very roomy. The kitchen sits to the left, while a pair of French doors leads to the bedroom, and a single door marks the entrance to the bathroom.

Eric steps up beside her. "I can get a room downstairs, if you want," he suggests, secretly hoping she doesn't take him up on his offer. He wants to be here, even if he may not have the means to help. He knows that she doesn't need the protection, would probably kick him out if she sees him staying that way, but if there's any chance that she wants his presence, he doesn't need to be asked twice. "I mean, I want to stay, but if you—"

"Then stay," she interrupts softly, catching his eye for a moment. She walks over to the couch and takes a seat. "As long as you don't mind the couch bed…"

He smiles and nods and doesn't push it, because he likes the idea that she wants him there. She'd asked him to accompany her, after all, and while he'd played with the possibility of politeness on her part, he prefers the alternative.

He wanders over to the window and peers down at the street, then up at the sky. The clouds have noticeably dispersed, though a light sheet of rain continues to beat against the glass.

"Looks like the rain's going to let up," he comments.

She stands and joins him by the window. A moment passes, then two. "Thank you," she breathes, meaning it for a million different things but allowing it to be for only one: his presence.

He smiles. "It's been a long day; we should probably get some rest."

She helps him pull out the couch bed and set up the sheets. It's surprisingly comfortable, and she jokes that she'd been ripped off by settling for the bed in the bedroom.

She showers first, and by the time he slips out of the bathroom, she is already closed in her room. The lights are off, so he leaves her alone and climbs under his covers; it's not yet incredibly late by his standards, but the exhaustion gets to him and he can't fight the sleep that overtakes him.

-/-/-

At a quarter past one, he feels his bed dip slightly, and the metal frame lets out a tiny squeak. He shifts underneath the covers and sleepily turns to see Calleigh sitting at the far edge, robe wrapped tightly around her body.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position and squints at her, his fingers unconsciously reaching toward the lamp. He flicks the switch at the base of the lamp and the room is bathed in a mellow glow. He catches her eye before she turns away from the luminosity like it burns her, but it's long enough for him to notice that her eyes are red. She's been crying; it hits him hard.

"Turn off the light," she requests, the quiver there betraying her state of mind.

He does as he's told, his arms suddenly aching to hold her, even though he knows that's not what she wants or needs. He gathers up the comforter and brings it with him to where she's sitting. He capes it over her back and lets the rest flow around to her lap.

She takes a deep breath. "I could've saved him, you know."

"Calleigh, that's—"

"He killed himself," she interrupts sharply, "because he couldn't handle the rejection." She draws his comforter tighter around herself. "If I'd just given it another shot, maybe—"

He shakes his head, feeling a renewed hatred for Hagen. "You can't live your life for someone else," he says gently.

"It wasn't perfect," she acquiesces, "but we could've done it."

He wonders if she knows how much the conversation is tearing at him. He feels a share of her guilt, but it's compounded with the unwelcome sting of jealousy. He knows it's not the time for that, but he can't push it away, no matter how hard he tries.

"His issues went beyond what he had with you, Calleigh," he reminds her. "You can't blame yourself for what happened."

She shifts uneasily on the bed. "When John came back to work, he said that he had a bad back. Apparently, that's a euphemism for failed psych evaluations. I should've said something."

He stops himself from resting his hand on her thigh, deeming the act too intimate, even through the thick comforter. He opts for keeping his hands to himself, choosing instead gentle words more appropriate for the occasion. "You couldn't have known he'd do something like this."

"There are always signs," she replies firmly, her words stronger than her delivery. "We work with those signs every day, in every case. We're supposed to be good at reading people, at uncovering secrets, but all that time I spent with him and I couldn't even—" She holds back a sudden sob, the rest of her thought lost in a jumble of emotion.

"Calleigh," he whispers, almost as if in fear of scaring her off. "His death wasn't your fault."

In the darkness, he has trouble making out her features, but the silent sobs that wrack her body make him believe that she's anything but convinced. It's not the fearless Calleigh he's used to seeing, but it reminds him that she's human, that she's reaching out for something to hold on to. She's reaching out to _him_, and that gives him the strength to share her burden. When she'd told him mere weeks ago that she trusted him, he'd harbored a shadow of doubt, because she'd been distant since Speed's death, and he hadn't thought she'd ever really trust him again after he'd admitted to seeking out strange women to mask the pain. He doesn't doubt any of that now, because she's here, spilling out the contents of her guarded heart, and what remains when she's lost her layers of defenses is nothing short of breathtaking.

"Why did he do this?" she asks, voice shaky, and the naivety of the question is uncharacteristic of her. She can't hide that under the mask of darkness.

"I don't know," he replies gently. He figures that honesty is the least he can offer her, and he doubts that any miracle answer would satisfy her thirst for reason anyway. "I don't know," he reiterates, "but he made a selfish decision and you shouldn't have to pay for that."

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and she's beyond the point of trying to hide her tears from him. They're silent, but they're there, and he knows better than anyone how much she hates crying. He reaches out a hand and lightly brushes the pad of his thumb over her cheek. It's damp, and she shivers at the contact.

"I miss you," she murmurs without an ounce of forethought. Her words seem to surprise her more than they do him, and she pulls away from his fingers. "Oh, God, Valera called it."

He has no idea what that's supposed to mean, but he knows it's not the time to ask. "I'm right here," he whispers, heart aching because he can't stand seeing her so torn. He searches out her hand and weaves his fingers through hers; she lets him.

She takes a deep breath, but it does little to calm her nerves, and whatever defenses she'd prepared begin to fade away, seemingly melting to the floor. She senses him squeezing her hand and it hits her hard: where she is, with whom, but mostly just why. Why she's there, why _he_'s here with her, and it all becomes too much to take.

She doesn't remember the last time she cried, really full-out cried with horrible sobs and streams of tears, because she's always reminded herself that she's stronger than that. But it's no longer about strength; it's never been about strength. It's been about bottling it up, pushing and pushing until it disappears from view but lurks just under the surface. Compartmentalizing has always been her forte, and she'd done exactly that with _this_. She'd harbored _this_ longer than the past week and a half.

She doesn't even know if _this_ is solely about Hagen anymore.

With that thought, she's hit with an unbearable guilt. It constricts her chest, makes it almost painful to even breathe. She sees Hagen lying on the ground with a bullet wound to the temple, blood pool widening around his head, seeping into his clothes. She hears the click as he cocks the gun; she can still feel the muzzle pushed lightly against the back of her head.

And yet, she recognizes that it's not only about that. She'd been threatened before, betrayed, and she'd always bounced back. She'd had her share of ex-boyfriends who'd hurt her, but she doesn't remember it ever being quite like this. There's something additional there, and when Eric pulls her flush against his chest, thumb rubbing soothing circles on her hand, she gets it. Some of it, anyway, because she has the feeling that she's never going to understand it in its entirety.

She's crying so hard now that articulating anything would be an impossible task, but he holds her tighter and keeps her grounded until she runs out of sobs and grows quiet. She stays there, cradled against his chest, silent and unmoving. He knows that she hasn't fallen asleep, and he waits. For what, he doesn't know; why, he's still trying to figure out, but he doesn't think he's going to get another opportunity to comfort her with his embrace, for whatever it's worth.

He doesn't know how many seconds, minutes or even hours pass, and he doesn't dare turn toward the clock and risk shifting their bodies out of balance. Eventually, she begins to stir.

Very slowly, as though awakening from a deep sleep, she rouses and pulls away, leaving only their fingers touching. She shivers again when the cool air hits her and senses him pulling the comforter tighter around her torso.

"I'm sorry I woke you," she says, back straightening, not a single hint of agony or uncertainty. Her tears have dried, her expression steeled, and he almost wonders if he'd hallucinated the past however long it'd been.

He shakes his head. "No, I was—"

"You should get some sleep," she urges in a too-serious voice, shrugging out of the comforter. She stands, her fingers sliding away from his hand, and without another word, she steps away and slips into the bathroom, door closing quietly behind her. A thin line of light appears through the bottom seam of the door, and he hears the sink going on, then off again. He imagines her leaning against the counter top, eyes closed, taking deep breaths to quell her rising emotions, and his heart aches for her.

He rises and runs his hand through his hair, taking short strides toward the bathroom. There, he waits, and it's not long before the door opens and she steps out. Even as she notices him standing there, she is the picture of composure.

Something has changed; the tension dissipates, and when he reaches for her hands and gently squeezes them, she doesn't even flinch.

"You hungry?" he asks in a whisper.

She shakes her head and allows a tiny smile. "You should get to bed," she says again, gentler this time, tone softer, more still.

He releases one of her hands and reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I'm always gonna be here," he murmurs, fingertips lightly grazing her cheek.

Slow motion, that's what it feels like to him. Frame by frame of something indescribable. He doesn't know where he finds the courage, or how she finds it in her to let him break her rules, but he knows the moment is not forever and tries to hold on to it for as long as he can.

She closes her eyes and leans into his fingers, ever so slightly, but before he has a chance to react, the moment ends and she distances herself again.

Still, she smiles at him. "I'm going to go to bed."

He nods. "Okay."

She takes her hand out of his and steps toward the bedroom door. "Get some rest."

Another nod. "Okay," he repeats.

"Good night, Eric." One last smile, and she disappears behind the double doors.

When he climbs into bed for the second time that night, it begins to drizzle again, and he allows the rhythm of the raindrops lull him toward the gates of slumber.

But she isn't done surprising him, and just before he succumbs to sleep, he feels his bed dip again. This time, however, she's not sitting at the edge when he turns around to face her. She'd slipped underneath the covers, _his_ covers, and for a moment, he doesn't know what to do. His pulse quickens, his blood rushes south, and his question catches in his throat.

_What are you doing?_

He watches as she sucks in a deep breath and inches closer to him. Just slightly, but his body reacts to hers and he reaches out blindly under the covers. Her robe is gone, and his fingertips trail along the length of her arm. With shaky fingers, he attempts to memorize the texture of her skin. He isn't entirely sure what he's doing or how she'll react, but he's going with his gut, and the compassion he exudes is something that she doesn't immediately know how to accept.

His touch is gentle, almost tentative, and she can't stop herself from shifting closer. She still hasn't figured out what the hell she's doing, but she'd felt drawn to him, had searched for his presence the moment she'd left. She needs it, she realizes: his tender actions, his comforting murmurs, and she'd sought it out without much consideration. It scares her, the way her skin tingles under his touch, but she keeps her eyes trained on the collar of his shirt and attempts to even out her breathing.

She doesn't even realize she'd been moving until she finds her hand pressed against his chest. His sudden proximity surprises her, though it shouldn't, and she quickly realizes that her surprise stems not from how close he's lying but how comfortable the intimacy feels.

After a moment of stillness, he slips his arm under her neck, careful not to disturb her hair, and tosses his other arm over her waist. Carefully, he scoops her body into his, discovering for the first time how perfectly she fits into him. He senses her muscles stiffening slightly as she buries her face into the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin. His grip tightens around her, and it takes her a minute or two, but she eventually lets her guard down, if only slightly. Her hand finds his hip, and it stays there.

Words, unnecessary; explanations, inadequate. What they have is this. Two souls suspended in the moment. One coping with a suffocating guilt; the other hoping for any opening, any invitation, and he'd have to be blind not to be able to read this one.

Outside, the rain pounds against the window pane, filling the otherwise-silent room with a soft yet erratic rhythm. Gently, she presses her open palm against his chest, needing the reassurance of life, of existence.

She falls asleep in his arms that night, her exhausted body collapsing into a dreamless slumber.


	4. Chapter 4: Patience

A/N: I know, I know, I suck. I've heard it all before. But I was supposed to be studying for a computer engineering test tonight and instead finished writing this so have mercy. I doubt anybody still remembers this story, but I will eventually finish it.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Patience**

The smell of coffee awakens Calleigh the next morning. Instinctively, she reaches out and fumbles around for… something, but it's not there. Her eyes open, and she realizes that she's alone in bed, and for a moment, she wonders if she'd imagined the whole thing, that the events of the night before had merely been figments of her overworked and under-rested mind. She can't figure out which she'd prefer.

But the other side of the bed is warm, the sheets ruffled, and she can't suppress the surge of disappointment at the realization that he'd been there but had left her, even if she recognizes that the assessment is unfair. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she recalls waking him up in the middle of the night, seeking him out not once but twice, and him _accepting_ her dependency, welcoming her inadequacies with open arms. She doesn't understand why he would, why he cares, but all that seems irrelevant when her body craves the comfort his proximity had brought.

She hears bare footsteps approaching and turns away from the noise to hide her face. She senses the couch-bed dip behind her, a body shuffling closer, the covers shifting, and she can't help but close her eyes in anticipation. What she's waiting for, she doesn't know, but she wants to be able to lie there beside him without the intrusion of consciousness, of thought.

Without an ounce of inhibition, his chest presses against her back, and his arm falls around her torso under the covers as he curls up behind her. A moment passes before she feels him tensing slightly. "When'd you wake up?" he murmurs into her hair, surprising her.

She isn't sure if something had given her away or if he's taking a shot in the dark, but she knows she can't pretend to be asleep when her heart is pounding so hard in her chest, so she moves her hand over where his is resting across her abdomen. "Couple minutes ago," she replies quietly.

"I didn't mean to leave," he says softly, offering reassurance that she shouldn't have needed but does. He shifts against her back. "I just wanted to get some coffee brewing."

Her muscles tighten. "What time is it?"

"Little past ten," he replies with an absentminded yawn. "You want to call up breakfast or go out and find a place?"

She closes her hand around his and gently lifts it from her body, pushing it away. She sits up and runs her fingers through her hair. "Let's, uh—" She climbs out of bed and stretches lightly. "Let's call it up," she suggests, taking a quick peek at him.

He's smiling up at her from beneath the covers. "Room service catalog is in a drawer in the kitchen."

She walks around the foot of the bed. "Want something?"

"Just get me whatever you're having," he replies, his eyes closing. "I'll be up in a sec."

She wanders into the kitchen and digs through the drawers until she finds the catalog he'd mentioned. She pulls it out and flips to the breakfast section, her eyes quickly scanning as she makes her way over to the phone. A quick call later, she settles down with a mug of coffee and the paper that Eric had left on the table.

By the time room service arrives, Eric still hasn't gotten up, and Calleigh doesn't have the heart to wake him. After all, she'd kept him up half the night, so she eats her share in the company of The Chronicle Journal, finding solace in the change of pace that it brings. It's quiet, but it's nice, different from the lonely silence she normally experiences at home.

Soon, plate cleared, mug drained, she takes a quick trip to the bathroom to wash up and get changed, then moves over to take a quick peek at Eric. He's still lying in the middle of the living room area, dead to the world. She checks the time and decides that she'd better wake him before his breakfast becomes inedible.

She carries the tray and a mug of coffee over to the bed and takes a seat at the edge, carefully balancing the tray on her lap. Leaning over, she shakes his shoulder gently. He stirs and turns to face her, eyes squinting in confusion.

She has to smile. "Breakfast?" she asks, motioning to the tray.

He pushes himself up with his arms and blinks the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah, starving," he replies, leaning over to pick the tray off her lap. "Thanks." He leans back against the back of the couch and rests the tray on his lap. "Where's yours?"

"Ate already," she replies, holding out the coffee. He takes the mug from her and takes a long drink. She shuffles over to his side and takes the mug back from him when he's done, freeing up his hands. She rolls the mug between her palms as she watches him eat for a little while. He doesn't seem to mind, seems to be preoccupied with something else entirely, and while her curiosity is piqued, she soon discovers that she isn't fully prepared for the ensuing conversation.

Between a bite of potato, he turns to look at her. "What was Valera right about?"

Her eyes shoot up. "What?"

"Last night," he clarifies, "you said that Valera was right."

She shifts against the back of the couch. "It's nothing."

He offers a quick nod and quickly drops it. "Okay."

She takes a deep breath, recalling the crazy lab tech's words. "Sometimes I just miss the way we used to be," she begins tentatively. "I don't know what happened, but it's like—"

"Speed," he interrupts, and her eyes pierce his in warning. He looks down at his food, suddenly without appetite. "That's what happened," he clarifies needlessly. "We never talked about it."

She shakes her head, almost in disbelief. "How can you just say it like that?"

He chuckles humorlessly. "Because it's true, Calleigh." He sighs and mashes his fork against his scrambled eggs. "He died and we weren't there for each other."

"You didn't want to talk about it," she said quietly, dreading a confrontation.

He shrugs. "Neither did you."

"I didn't know how to broach it with you," she admits with a hint of guilt. "You two were so close…"

He pushes the food on his plate around with his fork. "There were times when I was six digits into dialing your number and I'd just force myself to stop."

She experiences a quick compression against her chest at his admission, feeling the ache of lost opportunity. "Why?"

Another shrug, and he exhales heavily. "It wasn't your burden to shoulder."

She shakes her head. "Hagen's isn't yours."

"I didn't know him like you knew Speed," he explains. "I didn't want to bring it up when I knew you were trying to recover, too."

"We should've done it together instead of apart. It just—" She trails off, unsure. "I don't know."

"Spilt milk," he says in an attempt at reassurance, even though she knows the words are meaningless. "We're okay," he adds.

"Are we?" she asks with uncertainty. "I mean, are you?"

He bites the inside of his cheek and avoids her eyes. "I still think about him every day," he replies with a hint of resentment that she knows is never going to disappear.

She leans against him, just enough to let him know that she wants to be there for him, too, even all these months later, and in a way, it makes it easier to cope with her own issues. Hagen hadn't meant nearly as much to her as Speed had meant to Eric, yet he's making the attempt to pull her away from it all, if only for a few days. Maybe it's the preexisting experience, but maybe not. She wonders where she'd been after Speed's death, why she'd let the tragedy tear them apart instead of bring them together.

For a moment, the guilt is too much to handle, and the words tumble down like the beginnings of an avalanche. "I'm sorry I wasn't—"

"Calleigh, it's okay," he interrupts, sensing the destination before the departure. He smiles faintly. "It's been a long time, anyway."

Before she can reply, she hears the sound of her muffled ringtone from elsewhere in the suite. Without offering it too much thought, she leans over and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, for things she can explain and those she can't, mostly the latter. His skin is warm, peppered with stubble, and he smiles nervously when she pulls away.

She retreats quickly before words have a chance to be exchanged and focuses on searching out her phone. She finds it in her purse and takes a quick glance at the caller ID. It's her brother's home number. She flips it open and brings it to her ear.

Immediately, a tiny voice at the other end pipes up. "Hello?"

Calleigh smiles. "Ella?"

"Yes," she replies with a giggle. "Daddy said I could call you. He said to ask if you were busy first," she adds politely.

"No, I'm not busy, Ella," she replies, her eyes following Eric as he moved to the kitchen to drop off what remained of his breakfast. "What's up?"

"Um," the little girl says thoughtfully, "are you gonna come see us today?"

"Of course, baby," Calleigh replies. "I promised, remember?"

"Okay… but I'm not a baby," Ella says reluctantly.

Calleigh chuckles. "I know; I'm sorry."

"S'okay." There's shuffling at the other end, another voice in the background. "Um, Daddy said he can pick you up any time after three clocks, 'cause we're supposed to go to the lib'ary 'til then." She lowers her voice conspicuously. "Can you please come early, Calleigh?"

Calleigh's smile widens. "How about you get your daddy to pick us up as early as he wants?" she asks. "But don't bother him, okay? He can come whenever he wants. We'll be here. Is that okay?"

"Uh-huh," Ella replies affirmatively. There's a pause at the other end, more shuffling. "Daddy says I have to go get dressed for the lib'ary now."

"See you later, Ella. Have fun at the library."

"Okay. Bye-bye."

As Calleigh begins to stuff her phone back into her purse, she comes across the two lollipops that Ella had given her the night before. Taking them with her, she finds Eric in the bathroom in front of the sink, shaving. She walks in only because the door is open, and as she steps up beside him, she holds out a red lollipop.

He chuckles. "What's this?"

She smiles. "Ella wanted you to have it."

He takes it from her and twirls it around between his fingers. "That's so sweet of her."

"Yeah, she's—" Calleigh smiles. "She's the greatest thing that's ever happened to my brother."

He brings his razor to his face again. "You want kids?"

"No. Well, not yet. I don't know. Maybe someday." She pauses and catches his eyes through the mirror. "Do you?"

"My mom would kill me if I didn't," he replies with a chuckle as he turns on the tap and rinses his razor. "But it really depends on what my wife wants," he adds with a shrug.

She isn't touching that one with a pole of any length, so she quickly changes the subject. "Are you coming to dinner at my brother's tonight?"

"Where else am I going to go?" He presses a wet washcloth to his cheek and frowns. "Do you want me there?" he asks as an afterthought.

She nods. "Of course."

He makes a hasty attempt to organize the counter, then turns to her. "What do you want to do 'til then?"

She smiles. "Let's go for a walk."

-/-/-

At fifteen past three, Parker arrives at the hotel to pick Eric and Calleigh up, and he has Ella in tow. She's peering at them through the backseat window, grinning happily when Eric opens the door for Calleigh, then slips into the passenger's side seat.

"What've you two been up to?" Parker asks casually as he pulls onto the street.

"We went down to the marina," Eric replies.

"Eric doesn't see the Sleeping Giant," Calleigh reports.

Parker chuckles. "Neither do I, to be perfectly honest. Just a slab of rock as far as I'm concerned."

Eric pivots in his seat to smile smugly at Calleigh. "See? I told you."

Calleigh turns to the little girl sitting beside her and leans in conspiratorially. "Ella sees the Sleeping Giant, doesn't she?"

Ella nods eagerly. "Mommy showed me the nose and the chin…"

Calleigh returns Eric's smug grin. "Ella's very smart."

Ella giggles and claps her hands together, and Eric smiles at her. Ella giggles some more and buries her face into Calleigh's sleeve. She and Eric exchange mirroring smiles, but she quickly looks away, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies without reason. She frowns and decides to ignore it, reasoning instead that she'd had a small lunch and that it hadn't settled. Anything but the alternative.

The ride is over sooner than Calleigh had expected, and though she'd seen the house in pictures, it's her first visit. Ella is dragging her toward the door before she can react. Eric and Parker follow closely behind. The front door opens, and a brown-haired woman steps out onto the porch.

"Mommy!" Ella squeals, racing up the porch steps. "Calleigh's here, Calleigh's here!"

Calleigh follows Ella up the steps and quickly embraces the woman. "Olivia! You look great!"

Olivia rolls her eyes and motions to herself. "Are you kidding? Ever heard of the terrible twos?"

Calleigh smiles. "Speaking of which, where are the little guys?"

"Destroying the house," Olivia replies with a hearty laugh. "Is this—"

Calleigh nods and motions from one to the other. "Olivia, Eric. Eric, Olivia."

The two exchange pleasantries, and Calleigh can't help but wonder what her brother and sister-in-law think of Eric. The feeling at the pit of her stomach returns, but she shakes it off again.

As soon as everyone steps inside, two toddlers dressed in matching corduroy overalls suddenly come barreling down the hallway. They come to a stop in front of the guests and grin cheekily at them.

"That's Preston," Olivia says, pointing to one of the boys, "and the one making faces is Kingston."

The twins begin chasing each other in circles around Eric and Calleigh, chanting a garble of indistinguishable sounds. Olivia leans over and scoops one of them up into her arms, but the toddler immediately begins shrieking and squirming violently. The second toddler slows to a stop and looks up in perplexity. After watching his brother fight his mother's wheedling for a moment, the boy plants himself on the ground and begins to weep.

Eric is the first to react. Without hesitation, he leans down next to the crying toddler on the floor. "Hi, what's your name?" he asks softly.

The boy stares confusedly at Eric. "Preston," he replies around a hiccup.

"Okay, Preston. You wanna show me your toys?"

Preston seems to consider this for a moment, then breaks out into a wide smile. "Okay!" he cries, rubbing his runny nose against his sleeve.

The boy in Olivia's arms, presumably Kingston, struggles even harder to be let down. Finally, Olivia drops him gently on the ground, and he paddles over and tugs Eric's shirt. "Me too!"

Preston pulls himself to his feet and slaps Kingston across the arm. He takes off, calling over his shoulder, "Tag!" It takes Kingston a moment to process, but he quickly makes a face and chases after his brother. The two boys disappear down the stairs, and Eric pushes himself up.

Olivia runs her hand across her face. "Sorry about that. The boys can be a little…" She laughs. "You don't have to humor them."

"I don't mind keeping them occupied for a little while," Eric replies, peering down the hallway to where the twins had disappeared.

Calleigh chuckles. "He just wants to play with their action figures," she explains.

Olivia laughs. "Well, in that case, be my guest." She turns to Ella. "Sweetie, why don't you show Eric the basement?"

"Okay!" Ella replies responsibly, grasping Eric's hand and leading him away.

"I'd better make sure the twins stay out of his hair," Parker pipes up, moving to follow them down.

Once out of earshot, Olivia smiles knowingly at Calleigh. "How long have you been hiding him from us?"

"We're not—" Calleigh flushes. "We're just colleagues."

"Defensive," Olivia quips.

Calleigh shakes her head, mind wandering to the night before. Her tears, his warmth. She wonders what Olivia would say. "I needed a break," Calleigh explains unconvincingly. "He's just being nice."

Olivia chuckles. "My hint to stop prying, huh?"

"There's nothing to pry," Calleigh replies. "I don't—" She hesitates. "Our relationship is purely platonic." Flashes of being cocooned in his embrace fill her senses but she pushes them away.

Olivia hums in acknowledgement. "So you like your suite?"

Calleigh frowns. "Olly."

Olivia raises her arms in defeat. "I got it, I got it." She smiles as she begins leading her sister-in-law further into the house. "It took you a while to get around to visiting us. You want the grand tour or what?"

Ten minutes later, the tour ends in the basement, where the two women find Parker and Eric on all fours, each carrying a twin on his back. Ella has slipped herself into an oversized dress and a sparkly tiara.

Olivia laughs in disbelief. "Do I even want to know?" she murmurs to herself.

Each boy is equipped with a foam sword and busy hacking away at each other, their battle cries filling the basement. Only Ella notices Calleigh and Olivia, and she runs over to her mother, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress. "Mommy, look! I'm a princess!"

"I can see that," Olivia replies calmly. She points a finger at the others. "Honey, what are they supposed to be?"

Ella giggles. "That's silly. They're knights, of course!"

As if on cue, the boy on Eric's back kicks his feet and cries out, "Horsey!"

Olivia makes a beeline for the boys. "Kingston Edmond Duquesne!" she says sternly. "What do you think you're doing?"

The little boy startles, nearly tumbling off Eric's back. Eric and Parker look up, Preston stills his sword, and for a brief moment, there's dead silence. It doesn't last, however, because Kingston, finally realizing that he'd been scolded, begins to sob loudly.

Olivia plucks the crying toddler off Eric's back and pats his head affectionately. "That is no way to treat a guest," she explains softly. "Okay?"

Kingston nods obediently and struggles out of his mother's arms again. Preston looks around for a moment, then dutifully climbs off his father's back. Without another word, the twins wander off together.

Eric and Parker get to their feet. The latter scratches the back of his head and smiles sheepishly at his wife. "The twins were just having some fun, Olly."

Olivia shakes her head, but her smile gives her away. "Sometimes I don't know who to scold first."

"It's fine, Olivia," Eric offers. "I didn't mind. Really. The twins were great."

"So you like kids?" Olivia asks, shooting a quick glance at Calleigh, who in return sends her warning daggers.

Eric chuckles, catching the exchange but unsure how to read it. "Yeah, I do," he replies honestly.

Olivia smiles, seemingly satisfied. "Come on upstairs and get some snacks into you. Dinner will be a while."

Ella perks up. "Cookies?" she asks, shrugging out of her play dress and reaching for her mother's hand.

"Of course," Olivia replies, removing the tiara atop the little girl's head and tossing it aside. "Chocolate chip."

Everyone begins heading back upstairs, but Calleigh touches Eric's wrist to stop him for a moment. She waits until her family is out of sight before speaking quietly, guarded.

"Olivia thinks that, uh—" She trails off, motioning between them but unable to verbalize it. She senses the heat in her cheeks, suddenly experiences embarrassment. "She thinks we're—" Calleigh chuckles in an attempt to hide her unease. "You don't have to answer her questions."

Eric smiles slightly. "I know, Cal," he reassures her. "It's okay, really. Don't worry about it." His smile widens. "If you ever met my sisters, it'd be a hundred times worse for you."

She doesn't know why that surprises her. "Really?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, "why do you think you've never met them?"

At that, she smiles. "And here I thought it was because you didn't want them to tell me embarrassing baby stories."

"Well, that also," he deadpans. "Now come on," he adds, motioning toward the stairs. "I want some chocolate chip cookies, too."

The rest of the visit passes in similar fashion, and despite Olivia's persistence and the twins' mischief, Calleigh finds herself laughing more than she'd laughed in weeks. Eric had either done his research or had been extremely lucky in his choice of destination, because this is exactly what she needs. Family.

-/-/-

By the time Parker drops them off at the hotel, it's late, and when they slip into their suite, both want nothing more than to slide under the covers and sleep. He showers first this time, and when she's finally done, she finds him sitting up on his bed, watching sports highlights.

She seats herself beside him, maintaining careful distance, and they watch in silence together.

"I don't know much about ice hockey," Eric finally says, motioning toward the TV screen.

"Me neither," Calleigh replies. "You probably couldn't tell but Olivia used to play."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she nods, "Ella's already in an organized league and the twins can skate better than they can walk."

"That's insane." He studies the screen for a few more moments. "Skating can't be too hard," he decides aloud. "It's gotta be like rollerblading."

As the highlights draw to a close, he flips through a few more channels before turning off the television set altogether. He sits up straighter and inches toward her.

"You think I'm just being nice?" he asks. His words are quiet but sharp, curious.

She turns to him slowly. "What?" Cogs churn. "You were eavesdropping."

"No, I was—" He frowns. "I was just at the top of the stairs and I overheard." He shrugs his shoulders. "I didn't mean to."

She studies him for a minute. "Yeah, I think you're nice," she says awkwardly.

He exhales a chuckle and stares disbelievingly at his fingers. "I wouldn't do this for Ryan."

"You can't stand Ryan," she counters quietly.

His frown deepens. "Calleigh, I wouldn't do this for anybody else."

Her heart skips. "What are you saying?" she asks against her better judgment.

"I don't know." He looks at her methodically, his brief gaze piercing. "I'm not just being nice," he finally murmurs, and there's a hint of resignation there.

"Then why—"

"Because I want you to be—" He trails off, the words there but not. His hand reaches for hers but he stops himself. He can't. "I don't know."

She watches his retreating fingers until they come to rest beside his leg. She reaches out and threads her fingers loosely through his, encouraging. "You can tell me," she urges with courage she doesn't possess.

He gives her hand a squeeze, hangs on to it a little harder than he probably should. "Happier," he finally replies with a shrug. "I want you to be happier."

"You think—" She hesitates, swallowing, reforming thoughts into words. She's given up on eloquence. "Do you think you can—"

He nods slowly, thoughtfully. "I'm here for you. You know that."

She smiles faintly. "I'd better get to bed," she says reluctantly, though she makes no effort to move.

"Do you want to, uh—" He motions awkwardly at the bed.

She eyes it carefully; her fingers shift against his. "You don't mind?" she asks quietly.

He moves aside to make room for her, and she only hesitates for a moment before climbing in. He reaches over to flick off the lamp before doing the same, and after a moment, her hand rediscovers his underneath the covers. She squeezes it in silent gratitude.

He shifts closer until his scent fills her nostrils, and she gravitates toward him, attempting to hide her desperation, her urgency. She wants him to hold her, but she's too proud, so she hopes that he knows, hopes he can read her mind just this once. He can.

It's easy, she thinks, to fall into his embrace, into him. Too easy. It terrifies her that less than twenty-four hours ago, he'd held her while she bawled her eyes out for no reason other than… other than what? She can't bring herself to understand it and envies the way he does. One day, when this is all over, she'll ask. He'll show her.

His grip tightens around her, and she hears him breathing from his nose, evenly. She doesn't know where to keep her arms so she slides one around to his back and leaves it there. Her fingertips sense his muscles contracting and relaxing each time she shifts.

Her cheek brushes the collar of his shirt as she turns to look at him. His eyes are wide open; he's watching her. She touches her other hand to his chin, pressing against the bone until he frowns and pulls back.

"I didn't know you were good with children," she murmurs before he has a chance to ask her what she's doing.

"I'm not really," he replies modestly.

She smiles, holding back a yawn. "The twins loved you."

He leans forward and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. "Go to sleep."

She shivers, her body turns ice cold before she warms up again, the heat emanating from where his lips had touched her skin.

He scoops her closer. "Good night, Calleigh," he murmurs into her hair.

She can't find the voice to reply, but as she presses her cheek against his chest and breathes in his scent, it calms her, and she isn't so terrified anymore.


	5. Chapter 5: Humility

A/N: I realize I haven't updated this in a gazillion years so here's a recap of the first four chapters to catch everyone up: Hagen is a selfish prick. Eric is a saint. Calleigh's niece and twin nephews are too cute for words. Oh, and Eric and Calleigh are sleeping in the same bed but nothing's happened yet except some crying and cuddling. P.S. They are in Canada. You are officially up to speed. This chapter is dedicated to Wendy's and their delicious Frosties!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Humility**

For the second time in two days, Calleigh awakens from a peaceful sleep devoid of the horrendous images that had plagued her the days following Hagen's death. She doesn't need to be a top-notch forensics expert to understand why, and the very idea is strangely comforting.

Their bodies had shifted during the night, but she still finds herself cradled in his arms. She takes a moment to enjoy the feeling before her brain wakes up enough to scrutinize her actions. With her eyes still closed, she breathes in his scent, takes in the warmth of his body, and it relaxes her. She feels herself drifting off again.

Eric is already awake when she finally opens her eyes. He pulls the covers tighter around her. "I didn't leave this time," he says playfully.

She smiles. "Where's my coffee?" she asks, feeling a chuckle vibrate against her shoulder.

"You're cruel," he mutters, closing his eyes again.

She remains still for a few minutes, observing the way his features appear in the early hours of the morning, memorizing them in case he never offers to share a bed with her again. Unlikely, but she figures she shouldn't take anything for granted. She'd never noticed just how quietly he breathes, how evenly, and the cadence begins to lull her to sleep again.

Before she can fully doze off, however, her phone begins ringing, and its dull tone makes it impossible to sleep. She groans and begins to sit up, but Eric beats her to it. "I'll bring it to you," he offers, slipping out of the covers and padding out the room. A few moments later, he returns with her cell phone and hands it to her. It's Ella again.

"Hi, Calleigh," she greets eagerly.

"Good morning, Ella," Calleigh replies, smiling brightly.

Ella giggles. "That's silly. It's not morning."

Calleigh frowns, taking a quick peek at the wall clock. It's nearly half past noon. She looks at Eric, wondering where the time had gone. "Good afternoon, Ella," she corrects herself.

Ella giggles again. "Daddy wants to talk to you, but I helped him dial the number," she announces importantly.

"Wow, you're being a good girl, aren't you?" Calleigh coos. "Can you put him on?"

There's some movement, some unintelligible sounds, and the phone passes from daughter to father. "Hey, Calleigh," Parker says, his voice secretive. "Can I call on you for a favor? I'd planned a romantic dinner for Olly tonight but Ella's play date cancelled on her and she really wants to spend the day with you instead. Interested?"

Calleigh smiles brightly. "Of course."

"Didn't have other plans, did you? I could stick Ella with the twins' sitter—"

"Parker, come on, you know I love Ella to death."

"And Eric?"

She sneaks a quick peek at her bedmate. He's grinning at her for no reason at all, and her pulse quickens. She has to look away. "What about him?" she asks, sensing Eric's eyes on her and feeling inexplicably nervous about it.

"How's the suite?" Parker asks innocently. "Roomy enough for the two of you?"

Calleigh laughs in spite of herself. "I'm hanging up now. Send Ella by in an hour or so." Recalling a conversation from the previous night, she adds, "Bring her skates. We might go skating."

"How about we meet you at the rink in two?" Parker proceeds to provide Calleigh with directions, which she scribbles hastily on a pad of paper she'd grabbed off the desk.

At the end of her call, Eric raises his eyebrows at her. "We're going skating?"

She runs her fingers through her hair. "Yeah, you want to?"

"I might fall on my butt a lot," he laughs, "but yeah."

The two decide to show up early to get a head start, so after a quick lunch at a diner a few blocks from their hotel, a cab takes them to the arena where she'd agreed to meet Parker. She rents each of them a pair of skates – she notices him glancing longingly at the helmets and takes the opportunity to make fun of him; he defends his honor by declaring that he's going to be an excellent skater – and the two of them move to one of the rink's entrances to lace up.

The only people on the ice are a group of middle-schoolers playing shinny at one end, seemingly oblivious to the new arrivals. Calleigh removes her skate guards and steps out onto the ice, gracefully skating a few strokes before turning around to face Eric.

"Come on, I need to teach you some basics before Ella gets here or you're going to be laughed at."

Eric, hesitant even with his skate guards on, carefully removes them from his skates and, hanging on to the boards for support, places one bladed foot, then two, on the ice. Immediately, he wobbles. "How do you know how to do this?" he asks, motioning toward her with one hand, the other still tightened securely against the boards.

"There _are_ rinks in Miami, you know," she teases, skating easily toward him. "I took Ella a few times when she visited." She extends her arm. "Here, hold on to me."

He grasps it tightly and tries to put one foot in front of the other. It's harder than he'd expected – harder than rollerblading, certainly – and after half a lap of careful strokes, he catches an edge and tumbles to the ice, bringing her down with him.

She laughs and tries to push herself up, but he doesn't let go of her, so she stays seated beside his prone body for a moment. He smiles up at her, and she can't help but find it contagious.

He wiggles his feet and studies his skates. "Why do you have those prickly things at the front and I don't?"

She taps his skate with hers. "Because mine are figure skating skates and yours are hockey skates."

"You have to tell me the secret," he says, tone serious, but the playfulness in his eyes gives him away.

She tilts her head to study him. "The secret?"

He nods, the back of his head scraping against the ice. "The secret to skating like you do."

She laughs and gives him a gentle tug. "Get up."

He complies and allows her to lead him a full lap around the rink. He concentrates hard, wants to impress her because well, he's a guy with an ego, and she's a girl, a pretty one, and he momentarily forgets that they're here to deal with her dead ex-boyfriend. She seems to as well, which, Eric decides, makes it worth his effort.

But Eric is a quick study, has incredible natural athletic ability, and it doesn't take him long to pick it up. By the time Calleigh's brother arrives with Ella, Eric's already got a fairly good handle on maneuvering across the ice, though his inability to stop properly begins to seriously impede his progress.

Ella, hockey helmet already attached to her head, takes a seat on one of the benches, swings her skates off her shoulders and slides her tiny feet into them. Making quick work of the laces, she steps onto the ice and races toward Calleigh, running into her and nearly knocking her over. The little girl giggles.

With Eric following close behind, Calleigh takes Ella's hand and skates over to Parker.

Parker leans against the boards. "Getting some practice in?"

Calleigh points a thumb at Eric. "I was teaching Eric."

Parker nods knowingly. "Well, I'd best be off. Have fun, Ella." Ella patters over to the boards and stretches up to catch her father's kiss with her helmet. Parker watches his little girl skate away, then turns to Calleigh. "When should I come by to pick her up?"

"Any time you want," Calleigh replies, watching from the corner of her eye as Eric carefully skates over to Ella. "We don't mind watching over her."

"So if dinner goes well and Olly and I end up, you know, taking our time, it's fine?" Parker asks sheepishly.

Calleigh makes a face. "I didn't need to know that, but yeah, Ella can even stay the night in our suite if she wants."

Parker quirks an eyebrow at his sister. "You and Eric don't have similar plans?"

She flushes. "I told you, Parker," she says discreetly. "Nothing's going on."

Parker raises his arms in defeat. "We can't waste too much time, anyway. It's Sunday," he says with a smile. "I'll see you later, then?"

Calleigh skates over to give Parker a hug over the boards, then joins Eric and Ella, who are busy entertaining themselves with what appears to be a game of tag, though as far as Calleigh can tell, it's just a lot of taunting from Ella and stumbling on Eric's part.

Without quite understanding the rules, she joins in, and the three spend the next two hours at the rink, getting sweaty and tired and working up an appetite. Generally being young, which two of the three hadn't been for a very long time.

Eventually, Ella grows weary of their game and begins to get cranky, so Calleigh suggests they grab an early dinner and a lot of ice cream, which perks Ella right up. After returning the rentals and organizing Ella's gear in the bag Parker had left them, Calleigh and Ella leave the rink hand-in-hand, with Eric following close behind, a pink and purple sports bag slung over his shoulder.

At the conveniently-placed Wendy's across the street from the rink, Ella studies the menu for a long time before picking out chicken nuggets and a chocolate Frosty. Eric orders a quarter-pounder and Calleigh settles for a chicken salad. And of course, soft drinks for both and enough fries to go around.

Once seated, Ella dips a nugget into the sweet and sour sauce and takes a generous bite. After chewing and swallowing, she taps Eric lightly on the arm and discreetly asks, "Are you gonna marry Calleigh?"

Eric freezes; Calleigh nearly chokes on her meal. But Ella's question is sincere, and as she looks up at them with wide, curious eyes, Eric knows that there's no way out; he has to answer. He takes a moment to choose his words carefully, finally figuring that honesty is probably the best way to go. "No, Ella, there aren't any plans."

Ella's eyes remain trained on Eric's, as though she understands something deeper than he dares to even imagine. But his answer seems to appease her, and she allows the issue slide and begins digging hungrily into her chicken nuggets.

Eric looks over at Calleigh, who avoids eye contact with him at all. It quickly becomes obvious that Ella's question had thrown her just as hard as it had him. He isn't sure how to read that, isn't sure of anything anymore. He chews his burger slowly, contemplative. They say that children had the keenest eye, could read and understand human interaction without bias and without shame, but he doesn't know how much of that he really believes. Their body language couldn't have been _that_ indicative, could it?

He stops worrying about all that when Ella accidentally gets some Frosty up her nose and proceeds to spew chocolate shake all over the table. Calleigh reacts immediately, reaching across the table with a napkin to soak up the drink before it had a chance to drip onto her clothes. Ella, pinching her nose in pain, is on the verge of tears when Eric pulls her onto his lap. It seems to deter Ella's outburst somewhat.

"It hurts," Ella whines, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

"I have a trick for brain freeze. Want to know what it is?" Eric asks. He waits until Ella nods her approval then picks her up and swings her over his shoulders. The little girl shrieks in delight. Fortunately, the place is nearly empty and nobody seems to mind, even when Eric stands up and runs around in circles, making helicopter noises for added effect.

Calleigh is smiling in amusement when Eric finally puts Ella down.

Eric leans over. "Does your nose still hurt?"

Ella shakes her head. "Nope."

He reaches over and ruffles up Ella's hair. "Finish your nuggets."

Ella does as she's told, gobbling down the rest of her meal without another word. When all three are done with their food, they find their way back to the suite. Calleigh runs a bath and plops Ella into the tub. She supervises her niece and watches her splash around for a good half-hour, finally pulling her out once she's thoroughly pruned. She dries Ella up and dresses her – Parker had remembered to pack a clean change of clothes for her – and drains the tub, then carries her out to the living room area. She leaves Ella with Eric for a little while so she has a chance to shower. Ella seems to have grown particularly attached to the guy, Calleigh notices.

She doesn't waste time in the shower, and when she's done, Eric takes his turn to wash up. The showers at the rink hadn't been particularly appealing, so it's a relief to finally bathe. He must be getting old, he thinks to himself as the spray of hot water beats against his aching muscles. Running around like that, ice or no ice, would've never tired him out this easily.

The rest of the evening is spent relaxing, the skating seemingly tiring them all out. There's a movie, and ice cream, and a load of expensive snacks from the mini-bar.

At a quarter to nine, halfway through Sleeping Beauty for the second time, Ella effectively conks out, her head falling against Calleigh's arm on the couch. Calleigh picks her up and brings her to the luxurious bed she hadn't spent a single night in. She tucks Ella in and returns to where Eric is seated with the remote in his hand. He pats the couch, inviting her to sit beside him.

She remains rooted to the ground. "There aren't any plans?" she asks in a whisper, her words emphasizing her quiet but sudden fury.

It takes him a moment to realize she's referring to Ella's innocent question from earlier. Her stance is defensive, and he doesn't understand why she's so mad. He drops his shoulders in a half-shrug. "I didn't know what else to say."

"How about, 'No, I'm not'?"

Calmly, he puts down the remote down and looks up at her. "Why are you getting so worked up about this?"

She raises her hands up in the air. "Because Ella's going to go home and report to her parents that there aren't any plans, and my brother and sister-in-law are going to interpret that as there aren't any plans _yet_, and by next week, my entire extended family in Louisiana is going to call me to congratulate me on finally settling down."

He frowns. "Calleigh, relax. Do you really think Parker would train Ella to sneak around like that?"

"So what, she asked out of pure curiosity," she states flatly.

"Yes," he replies, an edge making its way into his voice. "Children are curious. They see stuff on TV, read stuff in books and make assumptions."

"She's five."

"She's smart," he counters. "She's just trying to correlate make belief with real life."

"You're a child psychologist now." A little sarcastic and a lot bitter. The tone doesn't suit her.

He has to count to ten in his head to calm himself down. "Why does this bother you so much?"

"I told you," she reiterates. "My family is nosy."

He shakes his head. "That's not it."

"Excuse me?" She stares him down until he looks away.

It doesn't stop him from speaking. "I think the idea of commitment terrifies you."

She seethes. "That is so far from—"

"Is it?" he interrupts. "Then why are you biting my head off when all I did was answer a question as honestly as I could?" He waits for his words to register. "You're reading too much into this."

She clenches her jaw. "I'm going to bed," she announces, disappearing behind closed doors before he has the chance to say anything.

Calleigh slides into bed beside Ella, angry. At him, but mostly at herself. He'd had a point, and Ella probably had been merely curious. Why had she been upset? No reason. She almost feels bad enough to go and apologize, but her pride stops her. Sleep. She just needs sleep. It'd all blow over in the morning. But she quickly realizes it's too early and not so easy to fall asleep without Eric. She watches Ella breathing evenly for a few minutes before turning onto her back and staring at the ceiling for a few more.

Eventually, though, she does drift off. She's restless but tired, and that's enough for her body.

Hours later, voices wake her from her light slumber. It's her brother and Olivia, undoubtedly here to pick Ella up. Calleigh checks the time. Barely midnight. Not bad. She slips out of bed and gently lifts Ella's sleeping body from under the covers. Ella stirs, moans but doesn't awaken. She carries her out of her room and toward the doorway, where the voices originate. She squints against the sudden light. Eric is already there, chatting away.

"Hey there sleepyheads," Parker says upon seeing her sister and daughter.

Olivia takes a step toward Calleigh, who manages to transfer Ella to her awaiting arms. "Were you a good girl for Calleigh and Eric?" Olivia asks Ella, though the little girl remains oblivious to the world.

Calleigh smiles. "She was a delight."

Parker runs his fingers through Ella's blond hair. "Good to hear. Well, we'd best be going," he announces. "We've got work in the morning and Ella has school."

After the appropriate hugs and kisses, the Duquesnes, save Calleigh, leave, and the tension in the room skyrockets. Eric is watching her, a little unsure, a little careful.

He scratches the back of his head. "I'm going to go set up the couch."

She follows her for a few steps before, "Eric?"

He stops, pivots. "Yeah?"

She stares at his chin. "My bed is really comfortable."

He chuckles. "Not mad at me anymore?"

She smiles faintly. "Never really was," she says apologetically.

"I just have to brush my teeth," he tells her. "I'll be right there."

Eric heads to the bathroom while Calleigh enters the bedroom and slips under the covers. They're still slightly warm from before and she curls up. A few minutes later, Eric joins her, his chest pressing against her back. She turns around to face him.

A thought occurs to her, and before her consciousness can filter through it, she asks quietly, "What happens when we get back?"

He shifts against her, trying to catch her eye, but she keeps her face deeply buried against his neck. "To Miami?" he asks needlessly. When she doesn't reply, he takes a moment to consider her question. "I guess we just… do whatever we want." Open-ended. He waits.

Her breath ghosts evenly against where his neck meets his shoulder. "What if I—" She bites back her words, hesitantly tries again. "I've gotten used to this."

Instinctively, his grip tightens around her. "Nothing has to change."

"If I need—" _You?_ But she doesn't verbalize it, can't bring herself to.

"You call, and I'll come over," he insists without missing a beat. "Or you can, and we'll pretend we're still here."

She shakes her head. "It's not fair to expect that." Her fingertip traces up along his back, and her voice softens. "What if you're with someone?"

He takes one breath, then two, carefully brushing her hair away from her face. "There's an easy solution to that."

"What are you saying?" she croaks, but he doesn't say anything, gives her time to process and digest. She understands the implications, yet she doesn't. She squeezes her eyes shut, wills herself not to cry.

He holds her tighter, grips her, grounds her. "We don't have to talk about this now," he reassures her, sensing the amount of restraint she'd placed on herself to hold back. He runs the pad of his thumb soothingly across her eyelid. "Whenever you're ready," he murmurs against her hair. "Whenever you're ready."


	6. Chapter 6: Chastity

**Chapter 6: Chastity**

Calleigh is vaguely aware of something warm against the palm of her hand, but it isn't until she opens her eyes that she realizes exactly where she'd placed her hand. She squints down at the space between their bodies, not making out much but quickly realizing that her fingers had crept past the waistband of Eric's boxers and are pressed against the hollow of his hip. She's confused and a little embarrassed, even more so when she hears his sleepy chuckle.

He seems more amused than anything else. "Mm, ulterior motive?"

It's too early for her brain to fully process spoken words, and after she withdraws her hand, she finds herself comfortable there. "Good morning," she murmurs in response.

He grazes his lips across her forehead without really thinking about it. "Morning."

She doesn't know what time it is, doesn't care, either. "Best night of sleep I've had in months," she announces, arching her back slightly to stretch. "This bed is amazing."

He runs his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. "Should've slept in here since day one."

"I tried," she replies quietly.

Momentarily, he says nothing, but his body stiffens slightly. She begins to grow restless against him, and he loosens his grip around her. He takes a minute and waits for her to relax again. "Hey," he murmurs, "I'm sorry about what I said last night."

"Hagen used to tell me that," she reveals. She closes her eyes and prepares for the pang. "That I had commitment issues."

He sucks in a deep breath and holds it. Exhales slowly. "Calleigh, I didn't mean it."

"You wouldn't be too far off base." She tilts her head downward until her forehead presses against his collarbone. "I don't try to be distant," she tells him with a hint of remorse.

He presses a kiss into her hair. "You're not," he reassures her. "Not with me."

She shivers. Her fingers trail short paths down the front of his shirt. She purposely avoids his waistline. "You think I overreacted about Ella's question?"

He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "A little," he admits. "Did it make you uncomfortable?"

She changes from lines to arches, her fingertips applying more pressure as she considers his question. "I couldn't figure out how I felt so I just pushed it onto you."

"I'm okay with that," he decides.

She rolls onto her back, placing a little distance between their bodies. "Did you mean what you said later?" she asks, fidgeting. "When we were in bed?"

"Every word," he replies without hesitation.

She swallows hard, the admission hitting her a little rougher than she'd expected. "Why?"

He lifts his head up off his pillow and props it up with his forearm, faces her. As the seconds tick by, he hears the doors of opportunity creaking shut. "Why not?" he finally counters.

Her eyes meet his for a brief moment. He's guarded, and the dark color in his irises betrays his uncertainty. She reaches up and instinctively traces a path down the stubble along his chin, watching as his eyelids close and open again. "Is that how you feel?" she asks tentatively.

He takes her hand into his and rolls onto his stomach beside her. "Look where we are, Calleigh."

She shakes her head with almost enough conviction to persuade herself. "We're here because my brother decided to book us a suite."

He frowns. "So if we had separate rooms, we wouldn't be here?"

Where 'here' is, she isn't sure, but she closes her eyes and tries to imagine it anyway, tries to imagine not curling up in his arms and breathing in his scent, imagines being alone. "Maybe not," she replies after a moment of hesitation. It isn't entirely a lie; the first time she'd fallen asleep the night before, she'd done it without him. He just makes it… easier.

He nods stiffly and gently rubs her arm as though he knows it's the last time he'll get to see her like this. "Tonight, I'll sleep in the other room."

She wants to tell him no, that they're only here for another two nights anyway, but she's aware enough to realize she'd be masking the real reason she wants him here with the excuse of time. She's not aware enough to pinpoint what exactly that reason is, though, so she remains quiet and allows the moment to pass. They remain motionless for a few minutes, silently suspended, until she feels a feather-light kiss against her bare shoulder and senses the bed shifting, his body rising. By the time she opens her eyes, he's already standing by the door.

He opens his mouth as though to say something but seems to decide against it. Without another word, he slips out of the room.

She lazes around for a few more minutes before getting up herself. She quickly realizes that the skating has left its mark, her muscles screaming at her all the way to the kitchen. He isn't there, but a moment later, she hears the water running in the bathroom. She slumps into a seat and contemplates breakfast. As she's about to rise to call up some room service, her own phone rings, simultaneously vibrating loudly against the kitchen counter. She doesn't particularly want to speak to anyone, but it's Valera and she picks up.

"Hey there, Calleigh," Valera chirps, a little too cheery. "How's your vacation?"

"Hey," Calleigh replies softly. She realizes the emotional edge in her voice and quickly clears her throat. "It's going well."

If Valera catches her tone, she doesn't mention it. "Thought I'd call and check up on you. Make sure you knew I've been harassing the bullet guy from swing who's covering for you."

Calleigh chuckles, her mood uplifted slightly at the idea of Valera pestering her temporary replacement. "Thanks, Maxine."

"So, did you and Eric get around to talking?" Valera asks without a hint of her teasing nature. She seems genuinely concerned for Calleigh's wellbeing.

"Not really," Calleigh replies. A half-truth, that, but she figures it's better than having to talk about it with Eric in the next room.

"Come on, Calleigh," Valera insists. "You'll feel better if you talk to him about it."

Calleigh hesitates. "I don't know what 'it' is."

"Just… stuff!" Valera supplies uselessly. "Do you think he would have traveled thousands of miles away from home for anyone?"

"I—I don't know."

"Sweetie, wake up. He's waiting for you." Valera's voice softens uncharacteristically. "If he hasn't said anything yet, it's out of respect for what recently happened to Hagen."

"And before that?"

"Before that," Valera replies, "he was being a wimp. Calleigh, think about it. After Speed's shooting, you two drifted apart. Don't interrupt me; you did. Everyone could see that. A little over a month ago, after his toothing got him involved in a case, something clicked with you. You guys grew close again. He's stayed out of trouble since then, hasn't he? He needs you as much as you need him."

"I don't need—" Calleigh pulls her lips into a thin line. "You've taken time out of your life to think about our relationship?" she asks with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm flattered."

Valera laughs. "You'd be surprised how much philosophy goes through the DNA lab. Ryan and I have been theorizing that—"

Calleigh groans internally. "Ryan, too?"

"Well, mostly me, but he follows me around like a lost puppy and agrees with everything I say," Valera dismisses. "Anyway, ask him about it."

"I think—" Calleigh pauses for a moment to search for the correct words. She weighs the consequences of telling Valera anything important, of telling _anyone_ anything important, but she finally decides to trust her. Calleigh has the feeling it's more for her own sanity than Valera's insatiable curiosity. "Maybe he already mentioned… it."

She can hear Valera frowning at the other end. "Maybe?"

"I don't know," Calleigh says rather uselessly. She takes a quick, cautious peek toward the bathroom, has learned how quickly he showers over the past two days. "Listen, Valera, I gotta go."

"I hear a shower running. Is someone else there with you?" Valera asks casually before it clicks with her. "Oh my God."

Calleigh senses her own cheeks burning up. "No, no, Valera," she protests, "you stop that right now."

But Valera's voice seems to have risen an octave or two, and Calleigh's objections go ignored. "Calleigh, when were you going to tell me?"

Calleigh runs her hand across her face. God damn it. She was really going to get it now. "My brother booked us a suite but you listen to me. We're not—" She cuts herself off when she hears the shower being turned off. She lowers her voice. "I have to go."

"When are we going to talk about this?" Valera squeals.

Calleigh picks at a piece of lint on her shirt. "There are two beds," she clarifies.

"Say, when you get back?" Valera presses.

Calleigh doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Maybe when I get back," she relents. "But I swear, if you misrepresent this to anyone—"

"Your secret's safe with me," Valera promises. "See you in a few days, Calleigh."

"Bye, Maxine."

Immediately after hanging up the phone, Calleigh is surprised by the sudden gut wrenching emotion that tears through her. She'd learned to take Valera's words with a grain of salt, but she can't figure out why everyone else – even her five-year-old niece – seems to understand her relationship with Eric better than herself. She takes a deep breath, pushes back her confusion. She'd have plenty of time to think about it at night, she thinks dryly, when she was sleeping in her king-sized bed by herself. But she isn't thinking about any of that right now, and by the time Eric enters the kitchen smelling a little like hotel shampoo, she's properly recomposed herself.

Eric, however, appears decidedly uncomfortable. "Breakfast?"

She nods. "Let me take a quick shower and we can go and grab something."

It doesn't take her long to shower and complete the rest of her morning routine. As she blow dries her hair, she stares into the mirror and studies her reflection. Despite everything that's happened in the past week, including the amount of sheer confusion that'd been piled onto her that morning, she finds herself at ease. She notices that she looks… happy. Or happier, anyway. She tries for a tiny smile, finds that she likes the way it adorns her lips. Confrontations, she deals with every day at work, but she'd never enjoyed confrontations in her personal life. With Eric, it hadn't really been a confrontation between them but rather one between her heart and her brain.

And Valera. The lab tech had grown on her. Quirky yet caring. Forthright yet understanding. And maybe… maybe she'd been right.

Calleigh finds Eric leaning against the kitchen counter with the morning paper. Upon noticing her, he looks up and smiles slightly. He tosses the newspaper aside and stands up straight. "Ready to go?"

She picks up her purse. "Yeah, I'm starving."

Breakfast passes without incident, and the two decide to do some more sightseeing, though Calleigh assures Eric that there isn't much to see, especially in comparison to the flurry of activity in Miami. But there's a charm to a smaller city, a happy medium between large metropolitans and empty rural areas, and because Thunder Bay is a port town at heart, in some ways, that helps dissuade any homesickness either might've experienced.

After catching a lunch of fresh seafood, Calleigh mentions a ranch nearby that her brother had spoken positively about. Having grown up in Miami, Eric is unsure about the trip, but Calleigh convinces him there's nothing to worry about. Thus, the afternoon is spent horseback riding on a pair of old but elegant mares. The horses seem to smell the city boy in Eric and give him a hard time, but he manages to make it through the day with nothing more than sore thighs.

The ranch sells homemade sandwiches, which Eric and Calleigh end up having for dinner on their way back to the hotel. Upon reaching their room, before Calleigh has a chance to jump into the shower, Eric stops her.

"Let's go swimming," he suggests.

She chuckles, surprised. "Seriously?"

"I miss it," he admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I know it's probably only been a week since I last jumped in the water, but it feels like forever."

She smiles, finding his addition rather endearing. "I need to take a quick shower."

"You smell fine," he offers.

She gives him a look. "I'm going to rinse and change into my swimsuit," she informs him, leaving to do just that.

Eric uses that time to get changed himself, and when Calleigh emerges from the bathroom, she hands him a towel, hers already wrapped securely around her hips. He tries not to stare, because it's rude, and because it's Calleigh, but he has to focus to keep his eyes on her face. He thinks of Hagen, of why they're here, and it becomes a little easier.

Without verbal exchanges, she leads him downstairs to the pool room. He brightens up immediately, tossing his towel aside and kicking his flip-flops away. He jumps smoothly into the pool, his body disappearing beneath the piercingly blue water. A moment later, he resurfaces, droplets of moisture rolling down his cheeks, his neck and shoulders. He grins up at her, motioning for her to join him. Her towel slides from her torso; she places it neatly beside his, slips off her own flip-flops and steps to the edge of the pool.

"I'm just gonna watch you for a bit," she tells him, her bare legs kicking lightly against the water.

He dives underwater and with powerful, trained strokes, he swims a quick lap around the pool, dodging a few other swimmers in his path. She's only ever seen him free swim a few times – mostly she saw him equipped with diving gear in the canals of Miami – but it never fails to awe her, the way he navigates the water, controls and manipulates it.

He resurfaces again near her legs. "Come on, Cal," he urges. "You're gonna get cold up there."

"There's a steam room," she informs him, pointing to a closed door at the other end of the pool. "I'm thinking your argument is fairly ineffective," she explains playfully.

He approaches, his arm reaching out to grab her ankle. "Swim with me."

She kicks away his hand, then pushes off the edge with her arms. Her body slides into the pool with little resistance, the water cool against her skin. She swipes at a few strands of wet hair clinging to her face. "What do you love so much about the water?"

"It makes me feel weightless."

She grins. "Couldn't stay out of the water for a week?"

He appears a little sheepish. "It's a bit of an addiction."

She chuckles. "Clearly." She slaps her open palm against the water, sending a splash of water at Eric's face. Before he has a chance to retaliate, she kicks off and glides away. Eric allows her a moment's head start and takes off after her, easing up on his strides as he nears her. When she resurfaces at the other end, he makes his move, hitting the water with a precision that only years of practice could've harbored. Calleigh ducks, dodging the brunt of the splash but still getting thoroughly hit by the wave. She raises her arms in defeat.

He swims toward her. "Give up?"

She makes one last weak splash and smiles. "I can predict the future and I don't like it," she says with a chuckle. "It involves me getting splashed over and over."

He dives underwater and resurfaces mere inches from her body. "Fine, no splashing, but think you can catch me?" he challenges, disappearing beneath the surface again.

Calleigh, however, has speedy reflexes and instinctively reaches down and grabs his shoulders, wrapping her legs around whatever part of his torso she can catch. She barely has a chance to take a proper breath before she's pulled underwater. She digs her nails into his skin in protest, and he quickly breaks the surface, rubbing the area along his arm where she'd accidentally scratched him.

"Sorry," she murmurs from behind him, her legs still securely wrapped around his waist. "But it really wasn't that difficult to catch you."

He chuckles, paddling backwards until he has her pinned between the side of the pool and his back. "You cheated."

She rests her chin against his left shoulder, her breath brushing against his earlobe. "Did not."

There's a moment when their bodies are pressed together that she feels at peace, completely and unequivocally comfortable with the position, but it doesn't last, and she quickly grows embarrassed. Her legs loosen around his torso, and she gives him a gentle push. He kicks away from the wall to give her some space, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Are you any good at springboard diving?" Calleigh asks him.

"Am I any good?" he scoffs playfully. "I am the master."

She smiles. "Do you want to show off?" she asks, motioning toward the lone springboard resting three meters above the surface of the water.

"Yeah," he chuckles, looking over his shoulder at the board, "but don't laugh if I belly-flop."

Her smile widens. "Promise."

Eric pulls himself out of the water and heads toward the diving board. He doesn't remember the last time he'd actually done this at a pool, and with Calleigh watching his every move, three meters suddenly doesn't seem so trivial. He climbs the steps slowly, focuses on breathing properly and when he finally reaches the top, he isn't so nervous anymore. With one quick glance at Calleigh, then another at the water directly underneath to ensure no unfortunate swimmers are present, he bounces off the springboard and into the air. He manages a double front flip before sloppily breaking the surface with his outstretched hands. No Olympics in diving medals in his future, but it impresses a few swimmers who'd been watching.

He paddles over to Calleigh. "Didn't belly-flop," he chuckles.

Calleigh appears astonished. "I'll say." She turns to look at the diving board again. "When'd you learn to do that?"

He grins. "There're only so many hours you can spend at the pool without wanting to jump off something high."

She mirrors his smile. "One day, you're going to teach me."

The next quarter-hour is spent lazing around in the water, on account of both being sore from skating the day before. Soon, Calleigh tires of swimming, and Eric sufficiently receives his fix for the week, so the two climb out of the pool and grab their towels.

"I'm going to make a trip to the steam room," Calleigh announces, pressing her hair to squeeze out the water.

Eric runs his towel hastily over his body. "Mind if I join you?"

She shakes her head, beads of water flinging around her as she does. "No, of course not. Come on."

The steam room is empty when they enter, but the sudden heat takes a moment to adjust to. A light sheen of humidity immediately clings to their respective bodies, but it's not unwelcome. Calleigh pads over to the lower bench and sits down; Eric slips into the seat beside her. She leans back against the upper bench and closes her eyes, taking small, shallow breaths to make up for the lack of breathable oxygen. He watches her for a moment, simply enjoying seeing her relaxed.

"Don't sleep on the couch tonight," she says quietly.

He hesitates. "It's not a couch when it's pulled out."

She takes a breath, two, her chest rising and falling evenly with each one. "I—don't want to sleep alone," she admits with a hint of anxiety.

He exhales, a million thoughts swimming through his mind. "Calleigh, what are you asking?" he breathes, his own voice so low it's almost pushed back by the steam. "You told me you didn't need me there."

She experiences a strange twinge in her chest. "That's not what I said."

His brain working against the heat, he tries to focus. "What you said was if we had separate rooms," he rehashes, "you'd be okay with separate sleeping arrangements."

Her eyes pierce his. "I need time to figure this thing with us out," she tells him with a quiet assurance. "We're only here until Wednesday."

If he'd needed a reason before, he doesn't anymore. "Okay," he agrees.

Her "thank you" is so soft he almost doesn't hear her, but he does. He smiles, fighting the sudden, inexplicable urge to touch her. As though she senses that need, she laces her fingers loosely through his. She closes her eyes again, leans back and attempts to return to her previous state of mind. She tilts her head around in a circle, wincing slightly as her sore neck muscles are strained. With the fingers of her free hand, she brushes her damp hair away from her back and applies pressure to the base of her neck, carefully kneading her own skin to alleviate the ache.

Through half-lidded eyes, he watches her for a few minutes. "Sore?"

Her head leans forward in a nod. "Yeah."

He keeps her sight trained on her for another minute or two before he releases her hand and climbs up to the bench behind her and takes a seat there, easing his legs on either side of her. He's careful not to touch her arms with his knees. Taking a moment to work up some courage, his fingers land on tense shoulders. With his thumbs, he makes a small but firm arc against the back of her neck. Her muscles contract beneath his touch. He repeats the motion, a little further down, and leans in next to her ear. "Is this okay?"

She holds back a shiver and nods her approval, not trusting herself to do much more. The air is suddenly hotter, thicker, and while his fingers feel amazing against her skin, she can't bring herself to ease enough to really enjoy it.

"Relax," he murmurs next to her ear as his fingers skirt along her shoulders and upper back, applying small circles of pressure and making her squirm slightly.

She squeezes her eyelids shut and focuses on her breathing. His hands are soft but strong against her shoulders, skilled, and she decides that this is much better than attempting to give herself a massage. Just Eric, she reminds herself. And just a massage. Something she could've gotten from a stranger at the spa. The thought seems to reassure her, and eventually, she manages to relax.

"I bet Ella isn't sore from a little skating," he teases.

She chuckles. "Like you aren't aching," she retaliates.

"Am not," he fibs. He hits a particularly tense spot, and she leans forward to suppress a moan. He shifts, his leg brushing against her arm.

"Too bad," she taunts, her voice low and tranquil, "I was just about to ask if you'd like me to reciprocate."

He tries to appear hurt. "That's not fair."

"Serves you right for lying," she counters, her words followed by a soft sound of approval as he hits the knot along her spine.

Eric, meanwhile, tries hard not to let the heat get to him. He'd forgotten why he'd thought this was such a brilliant idea, but he comes to the swift realization that the whole situation has the potential to become very embarrassing for him. Very, very quickly. He hears his willpower fading away and begins thinking up ways to cover up, in case it becomes noticeable. Some are more creative than others, but before he has the need to employ any of these techniques, Calleigh rises, gently shaking off his hands. She stretches slightly, arching her back to test her muscles, and she finds that they ache considerably less than before.

He grins. "Better?"

She laughs. "Your hands are magic," she replies, genuinely grateful.

The pair makes their way back up to their suite, warm and comfortable. While Calleigh waits for her hair to air dry, Eric changes and settles into bed, exhausted. Forty minutes later, when she finally joins him, he's in a deep sleep, his body warm and firm. She curls up beside him, and he moves in his sleep to fit her into his arms. She breathes against him, listens to his steady heart rate and falls asleep with little difficulty.

Turns out, his hands aren't the only parts of him with a little bit of magic.


End file.
